


Rumors

by FriendOfTheFugitive



Series: Miscellaneous Ferion [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Haven (Dragon Age), M/M, Poor Dorian Pavus, Rumors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-18 01:38:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7294294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriendOfTheFugitive/pseuds/FriendOfTheFugitive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian has been at Haven for only five days and still he is an outcast. One night at the Tavern he hears all the gossip and rumors that have been chasing him for years - in an all new place with no friends to speak of, he is alone. That is, until a friendly face silences the hateful gossip that seems to plague him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rumors

_“Is that him?”_

Dorian continued to slowly nurse the abnormally large tankard in front of him. The ones in Tevinter were thin, fragile and lined with sparkling jewels and other gaudy items that displayed the consumer's wealth and even status. This was clunky, thick, and hardy - like Ferelden in the shape of a mug.

_“That sure is - an Altus from Tevinter - I'm surprised he doesn't have his slaves with him.”_

He bit the inside of his cheeks and watched the liquid ripple in his mug as someone slammed their own tankard on the wooden bar. He traced the lip of the mug with his finger, his appetite for the drink growing stronger with each poorly executed whisper that originated from the tables behind him.

_“Hah! Didn't you hear? He is looking for more slaves here...I heard the Elves are their favorite pickings so we'll be safe.”_

He pressed his lips together, forming a tight, thin line as his eyes dropped from the bartender that now glanced at him sympathetically. The banter grew louder, swelling from a whisper to a buzz. Soon it would be a roar of laughter and insults, spreading like fire through the Tavern. What was once two pairs of eyes locked onto his back was now five pairs that burned into his clothes.

_“Someone should put him in chains for once - use blood magic on him just like they do in Tevinter. I say it's Justice.”_

He swallowed hard, suppressing the memories that threatened to claw their way to the front of his mind. He lowered his head even further, tucking into himself as if to hide. To get up and leave would admit defeat, to stay meant more of this undeserved torture. He needed something to quell the pain, but he couldn't quite convince himself to take another drink of the swill in his cup.

_“I'll drink to that! Though, I still can't believe Cullen, of all people, let him stay here. One day, I swear, he's going to turn into an abomination just because someone doesn't make his tea right.”_

He took a swig and immediately regretted it. It burned down his throat and he fought to suppress a cough. It had a horrible after taste, which didn't improve even after he took another drink. He gently rested the mug on the bar and scratched the side of his head, trying hard to look like he didn't care what they said. Now they were deliberate, spitting insults in his directions above the constant chatter.

_“Spoiled Vint.”_

He closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breath. He had more self-respect than this - staying here was madness. Still, his pride kept him firmly in his seat. He's heard worse. His finger drew a small circle on the front of the mug, and when cool liquid formed in his eye, he worked quickly to blink it away. The gossip continued to grow, his focus now locked on every syllable. It sounded like they were hissing the words directly into his ears. It became a jumbled mix of words, growing louder and louder with each passing second until a single voice sliced right through the chaos.

“Dorian, right? Do you mind if I sit with you?”

Dorian looked up rapidly, the voice was friendly and gentle, much more welcoming than the ones he heard all night. There was a wide grin on his face - one that was goofy and contagious. “Go right ahead,” he responded with just as much kindness. The man sat and suddenly Dorian felt ashamed, “I know we traveled forward in time and all, but I'm afraid I never got your name...”

The man laughed easily, “I'm sure the fault is entirely mine - it's difficult to give introductions when the world is falling apart around you.” He motioned to the bartender and she nodded before reaching behind the counter and pulling out a bottle of wine and one glass. The elf tapped the place in front of Dorian and the bartender complied. She poured him a glass of wine and then tucked away the bottle. “I'm Ferron Lavellan, it's a pleasure to meet you.”


End file.
